


Cooking Vegetarian for Cannibals

by Jacinta



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Dinner Party, Food Porn, Vegetarian, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacinta/pseuds/Jacinta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has been cornered into preparing a vegetarian dinner party for the FBI team and is none too happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooking Vegetarian for Cannibals

Those who knew Dr Hannibal Lecter would inform you that he was an incredibly intelligent man who was always cool, calm and collected. They would tell you he was unflappable, almost impossible to offend, anger, or startle past the point of mild irritation which he would cover with a polite facade anyway.

 All of these people would find it highly amusing, though not entirely surprising, that it was of matters relating to the kitchen that had Hannibal in an entirely flapped state. The man was known for being an amazing chef, passionate about his art and proud in a way that on a lesser man would be slightly vulgar. He was actually pacing and growling under his breath in a foreign tongue with his vest and jacket thrown almost carelessly over a chair. Thankfully Hannibal was actually alone in his kitchen, if someone had the gall to snicker at him right now he didn’t think he could refrain from carving them up and adding their brains to his menu.

_“How did I let this happen?_ ” He demanded harshly of himself in Lithuanian. _“How rude would it be to call this evening off citing illness?”_ He asked, shaking his head at himself. While he was occasionally rude it was very rarely over something so seemingly petty. The irritation remained though; he did not know what to serve his guests tonight and was quite upset over the matter. Oh sure, he had a number of individual recipes, he could even increase the size of a few to make them main courses yet nothing was living up to his normal standards.

_“It’s winter so start with a soup.”_ He ordered himself, flicking through his mental recipe box in distaste. _“Tomato is too plain... Will is not fond of pumpkin...“_ He considered. After a minute of listing every soup he could think of and their various merits and demerits he had a collection of ten possibilities. The exercise had calmed him but the result reminded him of his irritation, and made him acknowledge he was having a conversation with himself, out loud. Sighing at his own foolishness he began pacing violently, pushing the irritation to the side to be dealt with later.

There was no point being irritated, this dinner party would occur and there was no way to get out of it politely. He had tried but when it had been suggested he had taken it as the challenge it was and at his first protest he could see Will Graham raising his eyebrows in surprise. While he was not vegetarian, too vigorous of a protest would be improper and possibly alert William to what exactly Hannibal was far too early in their little game. In the end Will had shyly spoken up, unusually formal “I hadn’t imagined you to allow a challenge to your most prized skill go undefeated, Doctor Lecter.” Those words resulted in Hannibal’s surrender and now here he was regretting it as he tried to plan a vegetarian dinner party.

_“Oh the things I do for you, Will.”_ He muttered to himself as he left the kitchen. Collecting a sheet of paper and a pen he went to the dining room and sat in his normal chair. Cooking was an art and the manner in which courses were joined was as significant as each individual dish. It would do no good to repeat certain strong ingredients too regularly, nor would it be wise to have a series of filling dishes leaving his guests too full for dessert, or worse, leaving them hungry with too many light dishes. Thankfully he wasn’t cooking for guests who were used to his near perfect (there is always room to improve) menu plans and execution, or fine dining in general. This reduced his chances of getting called out for an unimaginative menu.

_“Focus”_ he ordered himself. There had been a slight rise in temperatures this week that signalled spring was possibly arriving early, chilled borscht was sounding quite appealing to Hannibal at the moment. Another moment of thought to recipes that would compliment his chosen soup and Hannibal smiled somewhat evilly. It certainly fit his mood and would look adequate if not amazing. One last snow graced with blood; a farewell to winter and the splashes of blood he had left in the snow at his victim’s feet. As the Ripper he’d struck three times during winter, all scenes particularly artistic thanks to the snow that revealed, to Will at least, that the very act of killing had been artistic.

Greens could be incorporated as a greeting to spring, and all the slight increase in new (green) serial killers it would bring. Oh yes, Hannibal had found his theme and no amount of distaste for the nature of the courses would stop him from finding satisfaction in this.

**_‘Stuffed Cherry Tomatoes’_** Hannibal wrote at the top of his page, briefly considering using Roman tomatoes but decided the smaller type would be more appropriate and impressive. A cream cheese and a feta with oregano would be perfect, dirty snow in a blood cup. He quickly wrote the specific cheeses he had in mind, indented slightly. As a simple canapé it would give him time to triple-check everything as the guests arrived, and allowing his guests some time to mingle as they all arrived. Belatedly he remembered that Beverly had warned him of a fussy guest so he quickly added another option. **_‘Cherry Gazpacho’_** technically it was a light soup but with the addition of champagne it could pass as an aperitif, albeit an unusually sweet one.

Leaving a gap he wrote down two soup options. **_‘Vichyssoise or borscht’_** He could safely predict enough responses to avoid a large quantity of left-over soup. Pleased that at least soups had been easy he searched his mind for a white, red and possibly green recipe that was appropriate as a main dish and fit with his theme. Hesitantly he considered a savoury soufflé and what could compliment it enough to satisfy as a main. **_‘Spinach soufflé served with flambé tomato’_** Hannibal wrote, pleasantly surprised to find he could accept the slightly sub-par meal. He would have to check how many ramekins he had, but it would be... nice.

**_‘Salad with a light vinaigrette’_** White beans, tomatoes, spinach, celery, white cheeses, maybe beetroot... and so on. Salad had to be the least inspiring course in any meal; however it was an essential course as it allowed guests to begin to digest the previous courses without leaving an awkwardly empty table. Even better it was elegant and simple allowing attention to be paid to more difficult dishes without obviously neglecting one.

Dessert. The question here was: would a simple ice cream based dish be better than a more complex option? So far it had been light, welcoming the nature of spring rather than embracing the hearty flavours of winter which did very little to help Hannibal make up his mind. Finally he chose personal preference, opting to watch his guests enjoy an almost too-sweet dessert over something simpler. **_‘White chocolate mousse with strawberries’_** was added beneath the salad. A fleeting thought inspired him to aim slightly higher, by creating white chocolate, and maybe coconut, cups which could be eaten after the mousse. Well he wasn’t one to refuse an opportunity to show off, especially his culinary abilities. That was how he’d gotten into this mess to start with.

 

With only a small frown to indicate his simmering anger Hannibal returned to his kitchen and began to assemble the ingredients he would require for the mousse, deciding to prepare the dessert first as it would require several hours in the fridge to set. It was eight in the morning so he had plenty of time to get everything ready at a comfortable pace, perhaps picking out his next kill in the few spare hours.

After beating both cream and eggs separately as he carefully melted white chocolate he folded them all together, mixing a small amount of gelatine in to give the mousse a small amount of shape while still having that home-made creaminess that people loved. Setting the mousse and extra cream in the fridge he found five bowls that were the perfect size for dessert and carefully lined them with foil. Satisfied with the bowls he returned his attention to the white chocolate, heating it up a little more and retrieving desecrated coconut. Deftly he poured the chocolate over the bowls, tapping the coconut around the base and top before refrigerating.

Hannibal turned to the dishes, allowing the monotony to stave off the anger he’d worked through by making desert. ‘ _Vegetarian dinner party served by a cannibal, what a ridiculous notion’_ Hannibal muttered among other, less polite sentiments. Once the chore was complete he gathered a list of what ingredients he needed and changed into a proper suit before leaving for a fresh food shop.

Today his favoured cashier, Tegan, had imported Lambert cherries for him. Gratefully he thanked her for knowing he would appreciate the out of season fruit. As she rung his purchase up, informing him that she hadn’t any luck finding a job in an upscale restaurant yet, a co-worker berated her for saving certain produce for a specific customer.

“Is he always that rude?” Hannibal asked when he left, probably to annoy another worker.

“Antonio? Well, I don’t want to speak ill of my boss.” She replied somewhat tactfully.

“I see now why you wish to leave his employ.” Hannibal smiled slightly at her chuckle.

“There was a rumour he was leaving so I stayed because I was hoping to buy the place and make a few changes, but I would rather pursue another career now.” She said regretfully and Hannibal nodded decisively. Antonio Rosco would grace his table soon enough, perhaps he would also mention Tegan’s name to a friend who owned an impressive French restaurant, just to allow her options.

“I hope your working situation improves soon, you would be excellent in either position I’m sure.” He collected the bags and she smiled, blushing lightly.

“Thank you sir, have a good day.” She replied, turning to the next person in line, offering the standard sentence with surprising sincerity. Regretfully he would not be having a good day, he mused as he loaded the bags into his car; he had a vegetarian dinner party to plan.

Returning home Hannibal quickly set up his cooking space for the two soups, placing his purchases either in the fridge or on a bench out of his road. Changing his shirt again he donned an apron and began peeling and cutting the beetroots, blending, mixing and simmering as he cleaned the red from everything before it could stain. His fingers were still a little pinkish but that would soon fade. Leaving the borscht in the large pot he made room in the fridge for it before chopping everything for the Vichyssoise soup.

As the almost-Vichyssoise simmered in the background Hannibal considered if a champagne flute was an appropriate manner to serve the gazpaco in. He surveyed his other options, finding no better alternative prior to recalling a set of shot glasses he had been given as a joke gift in a secret santa he’d been talked into participating in with the FBI team Will worked with. It was a humorous manner to serve the drink in, personalized enough to overcome the technical mistake while elegant enough to avoid embarrassment. Pulling out the set he opened the box and chuckled at the unusually tall glasses which he assembled in a circular pattern on a tray. There were twenty which would be excessive if they contained more than a mouthful of liquid.

He finished off the Vichyssoise, placing it in the fridge next to the borscht to wait. Then he washed the dishes, again, and pureed the cherries, adding everything else and blending again. He poured it into the individual glasses now, adding cherry gazpaco to his fridge. The simple vinaigrette barely took minutes for Hannibal to prepare, the stuffed cherry tomatoes took only a little bit longer as he skilfully removed the insides and replaced them with cheese and oregano. Knowing everything was in order he checked that he had finished all the early prep he could and made sure that everything was safely stored in his kitchen.

Before leaving Hannibal fixed himself a sandwich, adding more meat than he normally would to compensate for his frustration.

 

Will turned up on Hannibal’s doorstep first, early to a degree that in another person would be rude. From there guests arrived and mingled, complimenting the aperitif and canapé and Hannibal managed to restrain his contempt for the general meal. Half an hour after Beverly and her girlfriend, the last guests, had arrived he served the first dish. Chatter flowed pleasantly, staying away from the heavier topic of their jobs without becoming forced or too boring. Hannibal hated to admit that he didn’t hate the evening. After desert he led them to a ‘family’ room and served drinks. Soon everyone was discussing something sport related that he had very little interest in, a lack that Will clearly felt too.

 “It never ceases to amuse me how passionate people will become over their favoured sporting teams.” He said, gracefully taking a seat on the couch next to Will. The move was intended as being a good host, perhaps it would be interesting, perhaps he’d learn something he could use to further Will’s downfall but what happened was completely unexpected.

“I’ve never been a fan of sports but my dad used to love baseball. He was always a different person when ‘the game’ was on.” Will smiled and Hannibal nodded, it was a fairly common analysis. “Thank you for dinner; I can only imagine how painful that was for you.” Will said after a moment of comfortable silence.

“What do you mean?” Hannibal asked intrigued.

“Vegetarian. You love serving us strange meats without telling us who it was.” Will replied completely casual, not appearing to realise the huge secret he just voiced, or that he’d successfully left Dr Hannibal Lecter speechless.

“Will.” Hannibal began, for once not sure what he should say. ‘oh you realised’ was too blasé and ‘what gave it away’ was too cliché.

“Huh?” The man asked and looked at Hannibal surprised. “Wasn’t I supposed to know?” He asked and Hannibal smiled.

“Dear Will, I’m merely surprised that I didn’t predict you being aware you knew.” Will smiled as well. ‘ _Yes.’_ Hannibal thought. _‘This is the beginning of something brilliant.’_ Immediately he began revising his plans for Will, factoring in this new knowledge.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a dare and extremely fun. I apologise for the food which is below what I would expect from Hannibal but it's all things I've made because I didn't have internet to research how to make fancier things. If you want the recepies leave a comment, the mousse in this is an adaptation of a lactose, gluten and cocoa free mousse I make for mum, and I've made everything in here gluten and lactose free before if that's for you...


End file.
